


Scars and Stars

by TheWeirdChild8



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Loki (Marvel), Blood and Violence, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Compliant, Psychological Trauma, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-05 02:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15160559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdChild8/pseuds/TheWeirdChild8
Summary: It all started when Tony went out for shawarma. Like anyone else who went out on a Friday night, he had plans, and those plans did not include an amnesiac god of mischief who was supposed to be dead, and they definitely didn’t include HYDRA getting involved. But, then again, when did things ever go as planned for Tony Stark?





	1. Shawarma

**Author's Note:**

> My friend told me that there should be a fic where Loki works at a Shawarma shop. The result is an amnesiac!Loki and me randomly writing scenes that just magically turned into a monster of a story. I always struggle with my characterization of Stark as I know zero (0) references, but hopefully I did good enough?  
> As a side note, THIS FIC HAS VIOLENT, DARK, AND ANGSTY MOMENTS, just so you know.

“Enjoy your meal,” A voice across the room chimed, and Tony stopped mid-bite to look up. He knew that voice. It sent chills down his spine and he could practically feel a hand wrap around his throat as he tried to place it. Even with jeans and a casual shirt, along with an apron, he could recognize the posture that stood too straight, too _proud_ , and that goddamn mullet that stuck out in every which way and confirmed his identity even before he turned around with a calm, resting look on his face. Tony stared, a little uncomfortable at the pure confusion that he hadn’t felt in a while. This time, he wasn’t very sure he wanted to find out any answers to the questions circulating around his brain. But he didn’t have time to think, so the second that asshole gave him a glance, he reacted.

“What the fuck?” Tony thought out loud, which were probably not the best words that could’ve left his mouth, but it wasn’t like he needed an introduction. He acted on pure impulse, his heart pounding as he held eye contact with a very much _not_ dead Norse God. His shawarma clattered onto the platter, and he instinctively raised his hand, his gauntlet jumping into place. Taking advantage of the obvious surprise - _and,_ Tony thought, _is that fear?_ \-  showing on Loki’s face, he shot a blast.

Tony expected it to be a clone, and Loki would appear right behind him with a knife through his stomach, or he expected his blast to be knocked off by magic. What he did not expect, though, was for Loki to do absolutely nothing until the very last moment when he held up the platter in front of himself. It burned straight through the metal, striking him right in the chest and sending him stumbling backward into the nearest table.

“I feel as if I should be the one asking that,” The god snarled, gripping the table and standing back up.

“What, did you get bored of world domination and decide to be the next top chef?” Tony fired off another blast, but this time, Loki held up his arms to defend against it. The blast seared his skin, but barely did any damage.

“I do not know what you are referring to,” The god argued, but Tony grit his teeth. If it was some sort of human doppelganger, he wouldn’t have been unscarred from the blast, and Tony would be currently calling an ambulance in sheer terror. In conclusion, Loki is lying to him, or he had gotten even more insane than before and finally lost it.

“Don’t bullshit me!” Tony aimed once more. Either the god dropped this little trick of his and explained, or they would be engaging in a fight that Tony would end up paying the price for, literally.

“Stop!” The panic in Loki’s eyes and mannerisms actually made Tony hesitate, but he securely kept his aim right at his chest.

“Listen, Reindeer Games, I don’t-” Tony was cut off by a shoe hitting the side of his left cheek. Turning, he saw the old lady who managed the shawarma shop, and she was _pissed_.

“Out!” She yelled, voice thick with an accent. Tony stood there in disbelief that this woman would willingly host an evil villain who tried to take over and destroy the entire world.

“Do you know who he is?” Tony asked, pointing to the Asgardian.

“He’s a hard worker. Do not attack my employee,” She answered, and he was torn between giving his attention to Loki or the woman, so he settled for having a gauntlet aimed for the god while he went to answer the woman. He didn’t get the chance, however, as Loki already interjected.

“It is still possible that we can have a civil conversation.”

“For you to stall and lie?” Tony accused with a mockingly amused tone.

“For me to explain that I have no idea why you insist on attacking me,” Loki answered, his tone so very honest that Tony had to pause. The god looked at him, hands forward and raised, and if this was some sort of trick, well, it sort of worked.

“You’re trying to tell me that you don’t know who I am?”

“I know you’re Tony Stark,” Loki told him.

“So you admit that you’re stalling.” Tony raised an eyebrow, only to get an exasperated sigh in response as the god ran a hand through his hair.

“There is a magazine vendor two steps from our door, and your face is plastered everywhere, you imbecile!” Loki chided, gesturing to the entrance of the restaurant, and Tony decided to ignore his little quip. He had a lot of paperwork to get done, and Pepper would slaughter him if he wasn’t finished with it by the end of the night. Was this something he wanted to deal with at the moment? Hell no.

“You know what? Sure, let’s talk. You’re supposed to be dead, so let’s start with an explanation of why you resurrected yourself to make Shawarma.”

“May I pose a question before I answer?” The god asked, and Tony hesitantly gave a nod and expectant look.

“How did I die?” Loki inquired, the genuine curiosity making Tony’s mind come to a complete halt. He remembered the story of Loki’s death, straight from Thor. It was a story of redemption, of revenge, and of honor. Loki killed some evil monster whose name Tony couldn’t even try to pronounce, but he was impaled during the fight. Supposedly, he kept the infinity stone safe, helped protect Jane Foster, who Tony had to acknowledge for her work with physics, and died with honor. Thor had mentioned the word honor at least twelve times during the story, actually. But, Thor also mentioned the starting of the Convergence, which meant that they had to leave Loki's body behind.

“You sneaky bastard, you faked it,” Tony mumbled, the realization hitting him. If Loki had _died,_ that would make him free of all crimes. That would give him the perfect cover to disappear wherever he wanted. What he couldn’t possibly understand was why the god chose to not only come back to Earth, but work at a Mediterranean restaurant. He had many questions for him, but Tony assumed there would be plenty of time to interrogate him when he wasn’t in a public area. “You’re coming with me, now.”

“No, he isn’t,” A voice behind him muttered, thick accent nearly disappearing with the sternness.

“I can reimburse you for any inconve-” Tony halted as he turned to come face-to-face with the barrel of a pistol.

“He’s not going anywhere,” The man hissed, and Tony instantly surrendered. He was caught by surprise, and it’s not like he was going to actually threaten a citizen. The man in front of him wore an apron, and he obviously worked there. He understood the whole idea of employees being close-knit and stuff, but this was ridiculous, and he forced himself to admit that he was making the situation worse.

“Okay, okay! Hands up, you know, the universal sign of surrender!” Tony clearly yelled, putting his hands up in determination. He just needed to buy a few seconds and cursed himself for not notifying JARVIS the second he saw Loki. It was up to him to diffuse the situation, but there was nothing but panic as the gun didn’t move.

“Hail HYDRA,” The man whispered, pulling the trigger with a murderous grin.

Tony instantly brought down his arm in hope that the gauntlet would block it in time. He expected it to either deflect, or he expected a sharp pain to bloom anywhere on his upper body. Instead, he was roughly shoved and opened his eyes in time to see the bullet get lodged in Loki’s shoulder. Magic swirled around the wound and there was nothing but unadulterated rage pouring out from his eyes.

“I will see to it that your organization burns,” He growled, grabbing the pistol out of the man’s hand, snapping the metal in half. Tony knew it wouldn’t be long before more HYDRA soldiers came running in, but he knew that his armor would get there first, holding up the bracelets as he heard a crash through the window of the shop.

“JARVIS, contact SHIELD,” He ordered, turning to face the woman. She used their distraction to grab some sort of alien tech, and he powered up his gauntlet.

“I hope you remember how to fight!” He yelled to the god, shooting off a blast and destroying part of the counter while he was at it.

“It’s coated,” Loki whispered, and Tony wouldn’t have heard it if JARVIS didn’t modify the sound.

Turning and looking closer, he saw that blue was oozing out of the festering wound, and he barely had time to look up into Loki’s face before the god stumbled into the nearest table and blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use italics whenever it switches from reality to one of Loki’s flashbacks, and while I will use dashes to separate sometimes, there are times when it’s very mixed in. And if that made absolutely no sense, well, you’ll figure it out!

Loki woke to a plain, white ceiling lit by natural light. Grumbling, he rolled over to his side, before noticing that the shrill sound of his alarm wasn’t currently ringing throughout the room. He shot up in a panic, realizing that there was a suspicious lack of mildew on the ceiling, and the entire room was painted in blue with red trim, the vibrant colors assaulting his eyes.

He cursed as he slowly laid back down. His head throbbed, and the pain coursing through his shoulder didn’t help.

He was feeling fairly woozy, so he had to close his eyes to think. It should have been strange, waking here, but the room was so spacious and clean that it was not entirely uncomfortable. He felt like he laid on a giant marshmallow, and the sheets wrapped around him were so very cosy.

_For a second, he could imagine a room shrouded in light gold. He could feel the dark green sheets, dotted with gold. They were smooth under his fingers, complimenting the dark oak of the bed-frame. The side tables were embellished with emerald, holding matching antique lamps, the closest bearing a leatherback journal and matching quill. He remembers the bird that he plucked the feather from; it was a raven whose eyes were as dark as a starless sky._

_A wide desk laid in the corner, the wood scorched from dealing with exploding magic and spontaneously frozen in a few too many unexplained accidents, beaten through years of studying. Notes scattered across the top, messy scribblings and scrawlings that spread across the desk and hanging off of books. Each sheet of parchment was filled with information from his studies, memorized and played with until he was sure he truly knew what he was doing. Now, all of it was lost. None of the notes could help him, anymore, for all that work was gone from his mind._

_“Good morning, Prince,” A servant would sarcastically greet when he was younger, informing him of his daily duties, or more often that he slept far too long and the queen was asking after him. Most times, he had hardly gone to bed at all, lost in his studies, but he would get up anyways, dismissing the servant with a quick wave of his hand._

_He couldn’t stand them, hated their disrespect. No one cares for the_ second _prince. No, he was simply another burden for them to deal with. He was known for dealing with magic, for being argr in doing so, and he would never battle honorably in their minds. They were always so very respectful to the others, and no one would take Loki’s word seriously. But, by now, he could tolerate their disrespect, their ignorance, and their sarcastic morning greetings._

“Good morning."

Loki opened his eyes with a frown. That was not the voice of a servant; was not even a voice he recognized. Slowly and much more carefully, he sat up, bracing his left arm. He scanned the room; not a single person was in sight!

“Sir has extra clothes for you on the dresser, and the bathroom is located on your right,” The voice informed him, and Loki narrowed his eyes as he tried to locate where it came from. There was no audio device in the room, at least that he could see. He looked around, noticing a glass of water on the table beside him. His throat was awfully dry, but he didn’t trust that glass. It could easily be poisoned.

Begrudgingly, he followed the information that the strange spirit provided, grabbing the clothes off the dresser and cautiously opening the door to the bathroom. He flinched harder than he’d like to admit as the light automatically turned on as he stepped in.

Looking in the mirror, Loki traced the wrappings around his shoulder and up his collarbone. He quickly tore off the brace that hung around his arm, ignoring the pain that shot through his arm as he did so. Such a thing would only dampen his powers in battle, and Loki knew far too well that he couldn’t be caught in a weakened state.

Loki started to remember the night before, scowling as he looked around. He did not believe that HYDRA would give him such a room, especially not restrain him, but he knew better than to trust his own thoughts. He waited, and waited, and waited, but nothing happened. No one came into the room, and the spirit went silent.

It didn't make sense. Then again, a lot of things didn’t make sense lately.

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, resignation taking over. If they were going to give him a nice room and bathroom, he was definitely taking advantage of it, so he went straight into the shower.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea, considering that the water stung against his wound, but it gave him time to rest and meditate.

He did not take long to get ready. Once he was finished and clothed, he decided that he would not wait around. Loki walked up to the door, pressing his ear to the end. He didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a trap. He slowly grabbed the handle, closing his eyes as he twisted it, and he was fairly surprised when it opened. Why would the door possibly be unlocked?

Peering through, he could see how the hall opened up into a larger room, and he started to walk through, staying close to the walls. He truly did not expect to walk into a room where Tony Stark was lounging around in casual clothing and cooking, humming along to some song Loki didn’t recognize. He quickly relaxed, if only by a small fraction. If he was not dealing with HYDRA, he had no reason to sneak around. Besides, he had heard of Tony Stark. He was the type of man who would be very beneficial to have on his side and, although Loki had the sinking feeling that he made a terrible first impression, he knew he had to make some sort of alliance or truce.

“Sleeping Beauty awakens!” Tony announced the second he heard Loki’s footsteps, suddenly turning from where he had been rummaging through the cupboards.

“These clothes are not my usual style,” Loki told him in an attempt to stray from whatever reference that was. He looked down at the baggy sweatpants and dress shirt with distaste.

“They’re Cap’s, not mine. I doubt you’d fit in anything I wear,” Tony answered, giving Loki a funny look as his eyes scanned the god. It was unnerving, but Loki ignored it and instead straightened up.

“Am I to assume that I was staying in his room, also?”

“Yep. Cap and I got into an argument, and I thought it’d be a good way to piss him off once this whole ordeal goes to hell,” He said, almost too casually, as he pulled out some plates to set on the kitchen island.

“And what exactly is this ‘ordeal’?” Loki asked, and Tony closed the cupboard, turning to give his attention to the conversation.

“Well, you managed to kill a guy, passed out, I flew you here, got you some top-notch medical service, professionally told SHIELD to fuck off, and gave everyone in my PR department a raise for somehow keeping the media at a record low,” Tony explained, listing off on his fingers as if they were simple occurrences.

“SHIELD?”

“They’re a protection agency,” Tony clarified, still giving him that funny look as he glanced at the god. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, then closed it, and then finally decided to ask, “Are you going to button that up?”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked down, the shirt split down the middle, hanging loose.

“Is this not how…” He paused, grabbing the fabric. “It does not fasten or tie?”

“Are you messing with me right now?” Tony asked, and Loki took advantage of that question.

“Am I?” He challenged, a smile instantly creeping up onto his face. It wasn't  _his_ fault that he didn't know much about this world and culture, and if Tony wanted to be an asshole about it, he had no issue turning it back on the man.

They spent a good few seconds in an impromptu staring contest before Tony finally gave in and cautiously stepped forward, reaching out towards his shirt.

“It goes like this,” Tony explained, awkwardly grabbing and fastening of the middle buttons. Loki was ready to step back as the man invaded his space, but instead he nervously swallowed as calloused fingers drifted over the fabric. “I hope that’s not too complicated for you.”

“How peculiar,” He muttered, studying the buttons. He supposed it was practical, but it was hardly fashionable. Buttons seemed like such a cheap tactic, but he knew the fabrics in this land were pitiful compared to... well, wherever he was from.

“Wait.” Loki swatted at Tony’s hand as he went to button up the top. He drew his hand underneath the fabric, above the bandages, and green started to radiate out from underneath.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked, staring at the strands of magic with complete fascination. 

“Healing,” Loki muttered, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. He winced at a few mistakes as he tried his best to recall his studies, instead depending mainly on ingrained habit.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” The man asked, obviously noting the slightly pained crinkle of his eyes and nose.

“Of course I-” Loki cut off with a loud curse, his hand jerking away from the wound. He instantly averted his eyes. Out of stubbornness, he kept talking. “Advanced healing is an imperfect art.”

Tony gave him an overly sarcastic hum of agreement, and Loki shot him a glare. Of course, Loki was sure that he had previously _made_ it a perfected art, but he couldn’t exactly remember how.

“It will heal on its own,” Loki continued, buttoning up the final button alone.

“I know. I read the reports,” Tony told him, and he looked as if he was going to rattle off another sarcastic quip when a ding sounded from a contraption that Loki wasn’t familiar with. He watched as Tony opened it up, grabbed out what was obviously some sort of bread, and poured liquid back onto the holder. It dripped down the sides, and Loki was starting to wonder why the man would pour liquid onto a slightly flat surface when he saw Tony flip it over.

“Would you like some waffles? They’re gluten-free,” The engineer offered.

“Waffles?” Loki asked, receiving an affirmative hum as the man started looking around.

“I have syrup in one of these drawers,” He muttered.

“The third from the left, Sir,” JARVIS informed him, and it took everything in Tony to not laugh as Loki flinched and rapidly scanned the room.

“Thanks, J,” He answered, ducking behind a cabinet door so the god couldn’t see the smile on his face even if he couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice.

“What sort of spiritual being do you have enslaved?” Loki asked, eyes wandering around the ceiling, and Tony had to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle his laugh.

“JARVIS is not a ‘spiritual being,’ he’s an artificial intelligence,” Tony explained and, if Loki didn’t understand him, he didn’t give any indication of it. The god simply sat down on one of the stools, leaning against the counter as his eyes studied Tony. It looked a little uncomfortable, too, because the stool was high up, Loki was tall, and he was awkwardly hunched over with his narrowed, vibrantly green eyes looking at Tony like he was some sort of puzzle.

“Yesterday, you were trying to kill me, and you now decide to make me… waffles?” Loki asked, but the engineer simply shrugged in response.

Tony didn’t know why he didn’t turn him in. It would’ve been so very easy and so very quick, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t about to condemn a man who took a very fatal bullet for him. Well, that _and_ the fact that HYDRA was currently in a shitstorm with SHIELD. The second was going to be his main excuse that he would tell everyone. It was the logical answer, after all. Fury might understand and, if he didn’t? Well, that wasn’t Tony’s problem.

“First, you slept for nearly three days. Second, you took an actual bullet for me, so yeah, you get waffles,” Tony told him, pushing the plate of waffles his way and taking the seat next to him on the island.

“As if a bullet would have killed me,” Loki scoffed, though he still took the plate.

“Listen, I don’t know what secrets you accidentally gave to HYDRA, but the compound coating that bullet had the potential to kill you. If it got into my bloodstream, my organs would’ve turned into a smoothie,” Tony told him, tone edging on dangerous.

“I cannot ‘accidentally’ reveal secrets that I don’t possess!” Loki stressed, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Well, lucky for you, I have to get Thor involved, so I’m sure _he_ ca-“

“No!” Loki interrupted in a panic, lunging forward to grab Tony’s shoulder and keeping hold even as the man jerked back with surprise.

“You can’t- I can’t.” His entire form went tense as the name echoed through his mind.

_“Brother,” He heard, the voice soft and solemn. It was wrong. That voice should be loud. Awfully loud. And annoying. Brother? Loki had no brother, no family. No memories, either, but he would remember if he had a family, right? He was alone. He’d always been alone. That has to be why all he remembers is pain. It’s why he feels a disconnect, how he knew he was different. He was alone whether he remembered it or not. Even with Thor. Thor, who he knows, who he_ has _to know. Loki remembers the booming voice, the musk of rain and mountains, and the blond hair that shed itself onto all of his clothes. So why couldn’t he just remember his face?_

_Any sort of fondness and comfort he felt at the name was quickly overcome with panic. Loki needed to hide from him. But why? Why would he hide from such a warm presence, from someone he had been around for eternity?_

“-oki! Loki!” _There it was again. A different voice. But he couldn’t listen to it. He felt his gut burn. He was bleeding, wasn’t he? Thor was there, holding him. But where? Loki couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him. But he was talking, had to be, and Loki was free. Thor couldn’t get to him, couldn’t take him back. For he finally got revenge, finally won. And yet, he didn’t feel satisfied. He didn’t feel honorable. Instead, he was left to die with nothing but his rage._

“I didn’t do it for him,” Loki whispered, before promptly being hit in the face by Stark’s gauntlet. He blinked once, then twice, and suddenly he was back in Stark’s tower, nails digging into the man’s shirt.

“Fucking let go!” His hand unclamped from Stark’s shoulder, and the man recoiled with a hiss. It took a moment for the memory to truly set in, and he hated it. He hated the burning feeling he would always get, knowing that each and every memory is just another bullet point on a long list of misery. Each flashback left him in a cold sweat, gasping for air when there was plenty, and now, he'd harmed Stark in the process.

“I apologize,” Loki said, still frozen in place. 

“What _was_ that?” Tony asked, using his free hand to rub at the newly made bruise.

“My memory is triggered by certain events or words,” Loki admitted, scratching at his hand.

“And you hallucinate it?”

“I don’t see things. I simply black out.” He paused to rub his hand against his forehead. “They give me terrible headaches.”

“So, you don’t make any movements at all? Your magic doesn’t backfire, does it?” Tony asked cautiously.

“Not... particularly, no,” Loki answered, with a fair amount of hesitation. It truly depended on what ‘backfire’ counts as, but he ignored the memory in his mind. _That_ would never happen again; he was sure of it.

“Are you sure? I’d rather not relive the whole ‘throwing me out a window’ incident.”

“I will try to not defenestrate you, Stark. It does depend on the circumstances, though.” Loki rolled his eyes as Tony gave a fake gasp and held his hand up to his chest in faux offense.

“I wish I had HYDRA’s number right now,” Tony threatened. Loki snorted, lips curling into a slight smile.

Yet, it didn't quite reach his eyes, and melancholy seeped through until the smile was replaced by a frown.

“What did I do?” Loki asked him, fidgeting with his hands.

“Huh?” Tony asked, caught off guard.

“Do you truly think you’re the first person who has tried to attack me? A handful of people have recognized me, and each of them have… undesirable reactions when they do.” His eyes slipped to the floor. Tony was silent, for a moment, and Loki looked up as he slipped back onto the stool and disabled his gauntlet, the weapon reforming back into a wristwatch.

“You don’t remember your attack on Manhattan?”

Loki shook his head.

“What _do_ you remember, then?” Tony asked, and Loki hesitated. He tried to ignore the memories, the flashbacks, as they came. Telling the man about the memories would mean accepting them as his own, and, while he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to do that, he knew that he must.

 

\---

 

_All he remembers was a girl, although her face could not be put together, no matter how much he tried. He knew her smile- wishes he could see it again and again- and he smelled the rotting flesh, rancid and old. Her embrace was cold but felt warming, with a fondness that came out of nowhere. He cared for her; a girl who he did not even know. In some ways, she reminded him of himself. The verdant eyes reflected his own, and the long black locks were softer and smoother as they draped over his shoulders and pooled on the ground. She kissed his forehead and, while he was distracted, tore into his chest with her hand, curling around his still heart._

_He awoke gasping for breath, unable to feel his own body, his limbs heavy and skin dry. Spikes danced across his skin when he tried to move, and each heavy, painful heartbeat made him feel a little less light-headed, if not by much. When he finally opened his eyes to see a land of dust and dirt, barren as far as the eye can see, he knew only that his name was Loki._

_Once he could move, he stumbled into a cave, following nothing but what felt right. As he walked, the atmosphere suddenly changed, and he found himself standing in a more lively world. Lights sprawled over the buildings and streets, and there were strange people who walked by that looked similar to him even though he knew they weren’t._

 

_\---_

 

“I didn’t awake here, but I found my way to Earth.”

 

_\---_

 

_He knew that he didn’t fit in, but it didn’t seem like a new revelation. No, the distance between himself and all the other beings felt normal, even if there was a dull twinge of pain at the thought. It didn’t take long for people to notice him, standing there in clothes much unlike their own. He expected to be greeted with disgust and xenophobia. He didn’t expect to be found by HYDRA._

_HYDRA. He had absolutely no connection to the name except for the ravenous beasts that refused to die. One head turns into two, multiplying and multiplying no matter how hard you strike. The name made him think of mist and fog, of cold and rain. He smelt the ashes of flame, of unbearable heat and scorching burns mixed with the musty sea, remembering the burst of rage as he crushed something in his hand, wet and squishy. For the heads stopped growing after that, the necks burning and charred, turning a grey into the black of soot. Loki was left with an arm bleeding with bite marks, and he remembered a flash of red, not dark like blood but instead bright, warm and comforting as it wrapped around his arm. It was soft, and it was gentle, and he knew the presence even if he didn’t know who it belonged to._

_His association with HYDRA was that of a serpent with a screeching call, heard across the sharp rocks and precipices that cut off straight into raging waters. He thought of undulating waves that slowly increased in vigor before they were chopping and parting to unveil sharp teeth and rough, gray snouts. He felt pain as it sunk into him, but he felt alive._

_This was nothing like that._

_This HYDRA, this group of humans, were not ravenous beasts. For a beast was not hidden, and it did not shy away from its power or rely on others. It accepted its fate with fighting, its heads growing back together. These beasts were different. They struck in a group, unforgiving. They tried to bargain, to present him a deal that gave him no benefit. They offered him power, money, resources, anything that they thought would work, solely for him to work with them. To use his powers and magic to help their cause. They were fools. Fools, for thinking that he would desire any of the sort, for thinking that whoever he used to be would even listen to them. He no longer held his magic. It was there, laid dormant, but nothing he did would bring it up. It refused to listen to him, to follow him in any way, and he felt as if he was torn apart, disconnected from the only thing that powered him._

_They were fools, but he was too. He let them know who he was, scoffing and turning his back away from them, for he had nothing but his flawed intuition to judge what they thought of him. They were observant, seeing how he made no attempt to fight back, how he allowed himself to be contained. How he was no longer the one they remembered him to be._

_He woke in a room, restrained around every limb. They stuck a needle into him with no care, but the pain he felt was in his head. He saw the room around him turn blue and purple and black, and he looked up into an expanse of stars and lights that were so very far away. For once, he felt cold, his hair standing on edge as a shiver ran up his spine. There was a creature, shrivelled and menacing, hidden by a cloak, and when he tried to look at the eyes hidden by the dark fabric, he felt broken. There was anger, a feeling of betrayal, and he felt it be nurtured._

_“Are you ready to accept our plan?” The man in the room said, voice overlapping with the other, one dry and deep and the other high and raspy._

_With each poke and prod with their human tools, he felt something alien that got under his skin and spread across his body like poison until it tainted his mind instead. There was a hand, purple and blue, with far too many fingers, brought up to the side of his face from behind. It was digging in, crushing his jaw with pain beyond belief. There was rage, so much rage, flowing into him from that hand._

_He screamed. He screamed until his throat felt like crumbling, until it was sore enough to shrivel and take his life with it, until maybe the hurt of breathing was enough to distract from his mind. He had no connection to HYDRA, but he knew something -someone- worse that was able to parallel them. For there was one name he remembered, one being that stuck out above all others, that gave him nothing but dread and horror._

_Thanos._

Thanos _, he thought, squirming under invisible restraints with panic. The stars above him left him, replaced with a dull gray. Yet everything still hurt. It all hurt much deeper than it should have. He saw the man above him frown in confusion, only to smile when he realized that he had Loki’s attention. He spoke, but Loki couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of his heart. It wasn’t until the man moved to stab at his stomach, right where a twisted, grotesque scar used to lie, that he reacted. He didn’t allow himself to think as his body moved on its own accord, the cold tip of metal coming in contact._

_Green light spiraled through the room from that spot, the chains around him shattering like glass as he moved forward. He stopped feeling anything except the power flowing through him, nearly blacking out as he saw his hand wrap around the man’s throat._

_“Kneel,” He commanded, a ghost of a smile over his lips, before he allowed his magic to disperse and spread over him, the rest of the world going dark._

 

_\---_

 

“HYDRA threatened me, my instinct took over, and…” He paused to take a soft breath, musing over his phrasing. “That HYDRA soldier will never be seen again.”

“Threatened?” Tony looked at him, studying him, and Loki felt like some specimen.

“They wanted me to join them,” He replied abruptly, hand unconsciously rubbing over the inside of his elbow, the scar having disappeared within the same day.

 

_\---_

 

_Loki woke in an alley with the side of his arm connected to a brick wall, skin wedged into the clay._

_“Loki, dear, be careful.” Someone told him, once, her voice calm and sweet while still firm and scolding. He remembered the smell of fresh grass and morning dew, and before he knew it, tears were dripping from his eyes._

_“I’m sorry,” He whispered, feeling blades in his feet, slick and hard to pull out, always tearing and tearing until he can no longer walk._

_He leaned his forehead onto his arm, feeling the warm drops as the sun warming his skin disappeared, and the comfort he had completely disappeared. Using his anger, he ripped away from the wall without a sound leaving his throat as the air brushed over his arm, feeling as if it was burning._

_Blood ran down his fingers and dripped onto the pavement, and he clenched his teeth at the pain. It healed on its own, though. It always does._

_Looking down at his body, he realized that he was bare. Feeling the wind didn’t make him cold, but he found himself wishing that he had clothes on. He thought of soft leather pants held by string and fuzzy, tightly-knit shirts, and suddenly he gasped as the clothes themselves manifested onto his body. At least he was comfortable, now, even though the right sleeve of his deep green shirt was turning a dark crimson._

_Loki sat down on the cold pavement, ignoring the flies that buzzed to his left. He laid his head against the wall and stayed there, waiting for his arm to seal itself. Even after it did, he didn’t move. He simply sat there, looking up as the starless sky slowly turned light, watching the pinks and purples morph to blue. Maybe, if he stayed there long enough, staring at the sky he didn’t recognize, he would remember something else. Something,_ anything, _to give him any sort of direction._

_The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if his amnesia was a curse or a blessing._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry that I said that I’d have this up by last Thursday and… well, didn’t, but my sense of time is worse than Thor’s. To make up for it, though, the next chapter will come out a lot sooner than this one did. As always, comments are greatly appreciated, and thank you all for your patience!

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself that I wouldn’t do the thing where I post a chapter before I have the rest of the story finished, but here I am, feeding y’all a crumb of my new favorite AU. Be a little patient with me updating this thing. The chapter wasn't originally supposed to end there (and it's not really impressive compared to the rest), but chapter two will be a lengthy (and better) one, and I do believe I'll end up finishing this boi before summer ends.


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